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The figure clad in green road like one who had spent much time in the saddle. The hood of a heavy overcoat was pulled low over the individual’s face, shielding the being’s identity and features. The cloak, made of a forest-colored green wool, spilled over the horse’s rump and cascaded down its sides all the way to the rider’s leather boots. Shoulders curled slightly and head lowered, the cloaked figure road silently along the mossy path like someone whose main priority was to avoid attention.

Beneath the hood an intense young woman curled her fingers a little tighter around the reins. Her sleek leather gloves protruded slightly from the flowing sleeves. Her inner legs clasped the chestnut’s sides as her calves pressed against his barrel, silently cuing him. Her eyes, a startling shade of green, peered inconspicuously out from under the shadow of her hood. Keeping to the shadows, the cloaked figure road through the night, vigilantly watching the road ahead. Coming to a cross road, the rider and her horse veered off to the right and headed through the dense shroud of night towards the faint flickering of lights that signified life. Judging from the number of glowing lights, it was a small habitation. The woman’s steed lowered his head as he carefully picked his way down the stony path that dropped into the village. Guiding her mount through the softly illuminated streets, the figure halted in front of a decently constructed habitation. A board tacked up upon the door read “Inn.”

Sweeping a gloved hard under the cloak the woman swept it aside as she gracefully dismounted and glided silently to her horse’s head. Slender fingers emerged and wrapped themselves about the reins. Moving noiselessly, the beast and its master disappeared under the drooping roof of the stable. There, with quick efficiency of one who had done this many times, the woman settled her beast. A covered hand was lifted as she pulled the darkened hood further over her face, completely concealing herself. Saddle cradled against her side and a bridle slung over her shoulder, the woman floated over the rough cobblestones to the inn.

A dark leather boot slid out from under the encompassing cloak and nudged the door open. Slipping through the entry way the shadowed figure paused at the counter where a fat, baldish man sat. Purposely muffling her voice, the woman spoke in a low undertone that was impossible to distinguish as male or female, “A room, one night.” Dexterous fingers slid into a concealed pouch strapped about the her waste and withdrew adequate currency, tossing it upon the counter.

Moving swiftly, with the ease of one used to traveling undetected, the green rider made her way towards an unoccupied table in the corner of the room. Lowering herself gracefully to the bench, the figure deposited her load against the wall. Leaning back against the stonewall; she sat in voluntary seclusion, alertly observing the others in the room.

Raucous laughter echoed off the exposed timbers off the un-sanded roof. It appeared that the inn also served as a sort of tavern. Men cussed loudly as they sloshed back great mouthfuls of cheap entertainment and argued boisterously over their cards. Other more reserved individuals congregated in smaller groups of twos and threes and spoke quietly to one another over their drinks. Wenches carrying trays loaded with foaming beer wound their way through the groups, flashing their false smiles to likely customers. Their luscious lips curved upward in an apparently welcoming expression but their eyes were cold as stone. It was always a mystery to our silent stranger why they would choose to stay with such a life.

Unclasping a worn gourd from her saddlebag the cloaked figure raised it beneath her hood and took a sip before screwing the lid back on and settling it back into it’s holder. Withdrawing her hands back under her cloak, the woman’s fingers brushed over her array of weaponry. There she sat, watching, her face a void beneath the concealing cover of her encompassing cloak, waiting. For what you may ask? Even she didn’t know the answer to that question.

Laurelin slipped into the bar, noting with satisfaction how no one looked up to acknowledge her. Her entry had been silent, drawing no attention from any of the patrons. Her black cloak masked her body perfectly, making it impossible to tell her gender or any features about her. It was also perfect for hiding her various knives and other poisoned weaponry she had recently started collecting. The hood of her cloak covered her face, allowing none of her features to be distinguished except her eyes, which appeared only as dark glowing orbs on an otherwise pale face. Her coloring could be seen in the depths of the shadows of her hood, but all else was hidden, and carefully. She had grown far more cautious in the two years she had been working full time for the guild, trusting no one, and not letting any close enough to have the chance to betray her. These lessons had been learned the hard way, through much pain and bitterness. But learned them she had, her previous mistakes never to be made again.

Laurelin moved out of the doorway, keeping to the shadows she knew so well. Returning to Misthaven on an assignment was far from what she had longed to do, staying away from Misthaven had been one of her primary goals in the past two years. But the money on this particular assignment was too much to turn down, so she had accepted it. And it did have its perks, she knew her away around well... almost too well.

Laurelin looked at the various people in the inn, her eyes falling on a lone, cloaked figure near the center of the room. A satisfied smirk played across her lips for a brief moment before she started across the floor. She drew a few gazes now, a few whispers, but most went back to their drinks without paying her much mind. Laurelin reached the table without any resistance and sat, staring across the table at the figure, only then bothering to speak. Her voice held only a slight hint of her usually strong albae accent, making her words only slightly difficult to understand.

Airlea had had her head down when the other cloaked figure hand entered the room. However, sensing a new presence in the inn, she raised her head and fastened her eyes on the black figure milling in the shadows by the door.

The person was familiar with moving unseen. The way they used the flickering lights and shadows of the room to move with the least detection possible. The black cloak that concealed the figures identity, and Airlea would guess, concealed their weapons. The way the figures hands stayed close to their body, or concealed beneath the flowing folds. A fellow assassin, she was sure.

Airlea remained seated, her body position proclaiming that she was relaxed and at ease. However, beneath her cloak her muscles were taunt and ready to move rapidly, if needed. Her right hand moved to the handle of one of her daggers, resting comfortably on the hilt.

After working so long in the craft of death and war, Airlea was very cautious. That is why she was still alive. Although her body was prepared to move into action at any moment, her heart was still beating steadily and her breaths came out slow and unbothered. After almost a millennium of fighting, it would be a pure shame if the mere entrance of another person could set her palms sweating and heart pounding. Nay, Airlea hadn’t tasted fear in a long, long time.

Eyes inconspicuously following the figure, now obviously a woman (no man walked like that), Airlea frowned. Leaning back in her seat, her green eyes brooded beneath the hood.

”Care if I join you?”

Yes, in fact, she did care. Luckily for the woman, not enough to do anything about it. It had been a long three months of hard travel, and Airlea wasn’t exactly in the mood to pick a fight merely because someone requested the seat across from her. Her tone dry, Airlea shrugged slightly.

((just to warn you, I'm not good at writing long posts... just so you are aware ))

Laurelin smirked slightly at the figure's answer. The woman sitting across from her was obviously good at what she did, not someone to be tampered with or taken lightly. Laurelin's hand moved closer to her own knife, though her movement was masked by her cloak. Her eyes moved slowly over the woman in front of her, studying her for a potential weakness, as if she could see through the heavy fabric of her cloak. Whether she actually found one or not was her secret.

The woman was fearless, that much could be told. The way she showed no sign of discomfort or nervousness at Laurelin's approach and invasion of her privacy payed overwhelming tribute to that fact. Most were frightened out of their wits when she appeared in front of them, though she was certain the woman had known she was in the tavern from the moment she had opened the door. She would have to be careful with how she approached this, loosing her life was not a thought she treasured.

"No. It would not have made any difference. Still, I see no reason to put aside all signs of politeness and good will."

Aware of the other woman’s scrutiny, Airlea narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. How much did the lass expected to learn by simply staring at her? Airlea could give her numerous false indications about herself. Using discreet body language or by changing her tone she cold weave a completely false profile. No, if you wanted to know someone, there was two ways to go about it. First option, you gain their trust and know them as a friend. Second option, observe them without them knowing it and watch how they interact when they think that no one is watching.

"No. It would not have made any difference. Still, I see no reason to put aside all signs of politeness and good will."

When the woman finally spoke, Airlea smiled grimly to herself.

”I suppose not. Seeing as we are practicing politeness and good will how about telling me why you are here? I am not a person approached without reason.”

Airlea tone was cool and distant, but not icy. She recognized the potential threat in this other woman, but she knew, at least for the moment, that she posed little danger.

Making no move to remove her cloak, she piercing eyes held the other woman’s gaze relentlessly.

Laurelin could have laughed at her answer. From the looks of her dress and general appearance, at least what she could see of it, this woman ran from attention. She appeared to enjoy staying away from those that might threaten her, and those that might be friendly alike.

Which wasn't always a smart idea.

Laurelin brushed her hood back slightly, just enough so that the woman could see her dark, almost black eyes. The eyes that defined her race. She was going to have to proceed carefully from this moment forward, though she was certain that threats would go nowhere with this woman. Still... they didn't hurt.

The woman's question had been direct and to the point, she obviously didn't beat around the bush. Her fighting style was probably much the same. Probably.

Laurelin bit the inside of her cheek for a moment as she considered her options. She could either do the same, or be a little more subtle... Somehow she doubted the latter would earn her much respect in the woman's eyes, making her job that much harder.

"I'm in need of some... information. And I have been instructed to get it from you. Now, if we are going to keep being polite, I will not threaten you in order to obtain it. But..." Laurelin let the unspoken threat hang in the air, her words seeming to thicken it.

Airlea rose to her feet with a liquid type grace. Grace that came from a life lived by sword and strength for the past 1000 years. Tone as cold and hard as flint striking steal, Airlea spoke in a voice so low that only the woman could hear.

”Careful where you tread, girl.”

Stepping away from the table, she moved to the bar where she purchased a tall glass of wine. Returning to her seat, she lowered herself gently. Bringing the glass to her lips, she inhaled the scent of the wine, her gaze resting thoughtfully on the girl. Young people these days. They wanted everything fast and right away. Absolutely no tact, patience, or sense. Swirling her wine with languid motions, Airlea spoke, her gaze resting on the sparkling liquid.

”Consider this a warning, you will not even suggest threatening me again. Now, tell me what you want from me. Everything”

Laurelin watched the woman calmly, not seeming at all upset by her remarks and threats. She appeared that way anyway. But her fingers did tighten around the hilt of her knife and her eyes narrowed slightly, but not enough to be extremely noticeable. She knew she could respond with another threat, but antagonizing one's assignment was never a good idea. She paused for a moment, continuing to think. She decided on a course of action a moment later, her shoulders straightening slightly with purpose. She would tell her almost all... but not everything. Giving away secrets was a good way to get killed, and it made you a whole lot less valuable.

"All I want from you is information. Your life or your possessions are of no value to me, so you need not fear for them."

((garrrrrrrI had an idea of what information she needed, but I have forgotten it.... *hits head on desk* ummmmmmmmmm can I godmod a bit with the information?? I know that probably doesn't make sense... but it will if you say yes.... ))

Raising the glass to her lips, Airlea took a delicate sip. Those long graceful fingers wrapping themselves delicately about the stem of the glass, the precise tilt to her feminine wrist as she raised the wine goblet to her lips. If one forgot the cloak, they could very well imagine they were witnessing a high bred lady of court. Setting the glass down with care, she raised a seemingly bored gaze to the face of the restless girl before her. Ah, to be that young and unsure once again. Voice tinged with amusement, she spoke.

“Fear you? Don’t fret your pretty head, little one.”

Folding her bronzed hands on the table, she appraised the young woman.

”I know you want information, you’ve told me several times now. I will ask you again, what do you want to know?”

ooc: Sure, just don’t make my character look the fool…she’s not the type!

Laurelin stared at her, starting to get slightly annoyed with the woman's overconfidence. After all, Laurelin was threatening her. She thought... she was starting to be not so sure about that fact. And that this woman found her amusing... Laurlein struggled against her anger, something she had always battled. A part of being an alb, she supposed.

"I need information regarding your father. He has disappeared from his home, and the guild has need of him."

There, she had told her. And told her who she was working for, which depending on the woman's personality (and she had already seen enough of that to be cautious) probably hadn't been a good idea.

The stiffening of the muscles down the woman’s strong back was perceptible even beneath the folds of her concealing cloak. A scowl marred her exotic features as she spoke, her voice cold and a little wary.

“Ever since my sister was murdered my father has taken on the role of a wander. I do not know where he is and haven’t for a long time. The guild will have to find another to do their errands for them. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Pushing back her chair, Airlea rose to her full height. She was a very tall woman. Suddenly in a foul mood, she swept aside her cloak so that her hand rested very obviously on the hilt of her wicked looking death-bringer. Eyes warning the girl to leave well-enough alone, she backed a few steps before turning and swishing through the door and out to the stable. She wouldn’t be spending the night here. No, the walls were closing in.

Ooc: So, we can keep going, as in have her follow Airlea, or we can call it quits and start another topic. We’ve kinda felt each other out now.

((whichever you prefer... I wouldn't mind starting a new one, cause Laurelin does know when to stop following a person, but if you want to keep going, we can. And all this is only if you want to continue writing with me, I don't want to annoy you ))

Laurelin stared at the door after the woman, a slight frown that actually looked more like a sneer tugging at her lips. She was more than annoyed, though she had expected that kind of response. Not many people reacted with kindness after being threatened and then pressed for information. Though, now that she thought about it, she wasn't too sure she had actually threatened the woman at all, it seemed to have been more the other way around, which was unusual.

Laurelin shrugged it off and stood, her eyes determined as she left the inn. The shadows seemed to enfold her as she disappeared into them, the night swallowing her in its dark embrace.

Moving silently through the dark passageway of the barn, Airlea headed directly to her mount’s stall. Sliding the bolt open, she eased the door back and stepped in. Valzaan raised his regal head, his intelligent brown eyes lighting softly upon his master. Resting her cheek briefly against the muscled shoulder of the massive war horse, Airlea sighed and stroked his smooth neck. “Sorry my friend, we have to ride again tonight. Perhaps tomorrow we will rest, hmm?” Scratching him fondly behind the ears, she slid the bridle over his head and the saddle onto his back. Fastening all the keepers and the girth, she led the horse out the back way before mounting. Unshod, the horse made little noise as the moved off down the street to another place.

Ooc: So sorry! I was at a horse show. I think we should start another thread; there two are done with each other for now.

((tis fine!!! Okay, who do you want to start?? I can, or if you want to, you can... I actually won't be here for around a week, starting tomorrow, just a heads up on that. Um.. um... were we still going to do Rune and Airlea together, or do you have something else that you would rather do? Just double checking ^^ ))

ooc: Now that you know Airlea a little better, I'll let you decide which guy you think is best suited for her. But yeah, I'm still interested in a romance with one of your men. I'll post somewhere with Airlea and then you can post back. I'll make it a public place so their meeting is more natural. sound good?